


the road less taken

by Lackystars



Category: Fire Emblem Heroes, Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Seisen no Keifu | Fire Emblem: Genealogy of the Holy War, Fire Emblem: The Sacred Stones
Genre: "be home by 9 or ill fucking cut you", :), Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Slow Burn, a fucking mafia game, anyway, crackship, for elteh, i snatched that one tumblr prompt lol, in which eldigan is that one parent, road trips and drinking what's not to love, this all came from
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-23
Updated: 2019-02-07
Packaged: 2019-07-08 01:42:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15920346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lackystars/pseuds/Lackystars
Summary: Ephraim's that one kid that your parents warned to never go near. He's got blue hair (turquoise, even), he's always covered in scratches and bruises, and he drinks too much. Meanwhile, Ares is the complete opposite. The perfect child, if a bit edgy at times. He goes to sleep at 10PM and wakes up at 6AM. Always has his nose in a book.When Ares' father goes out of town for a week and leaves him at home alone, he doesn't expect anything interesting happen to happen. He's a very responsible teenager, after all. But then, there's a knock on the door, and before he knows it, Ephraim drags Ares out on a road trip.This is the journey of the jock and the emo kid as they travel halfway across the country to see the Belhalla Meteor, a rare celestial event that happens only once every 20 years.





	1. Chapter 1

**february 21**

Light spills through the window, and it's comfortable, but not comfortable enough to make him conveniently forget the fact that it's morning.

Ares has never done this before.

Of course, he knows _what_ to do, but that's nothing compared to actually doing it. He's never written an apology before. Or a confession. Or an apologetic confession. He feels bad for doing this over the internet- some things can only be conveyed in person- but he's not sure if he's sober enough to actually speak cohesively. Still, Ares isn't one for empty words. Actions speak louder than words after all... but what good are actions when you have nothing to act upon? 

Not good at all. 

He doesn't know how to go about it. 'Sorry' wouldn't cut it this time around. You say 'sorry' for something like accidentally bumping into someone on the street. You didn't say 'sorry' for kissing a guy on the lips, even if it was out of a drunken fervour, and even if you were sure he enjoyed it as much as you did. 

Ares shivers as he taps away on his keyboard. He can barely feel his fingers, and he can barely feel the emotion behind the words that he is writing. His head is pounding, each throb a beat of a drum that is too loud, and it hurts to think. He wonders if he can temporarily shut down his consciousness, consequences be damned, and let the words flow from his fingers like an ethereal magic. 

But even so, there's nothing magical about your best friend hating you. And maybe he's just being over dramatic, making a big deal out of nothing, but he isn't willing to take the risk of fucking up once again like he did so long ago.  

...

It’s cold, like it usually is in winter. Warm drinks and even warmer fires help alleviate things a bit, but the cold is almost tangible, biting at skin unfortunate enough to be exposed, and it demands to be felt.

His hand shakes as he continues to type. 

Ares doesn’t like the cold. It reminds him of the time that he was locked out of his house, trapped outside in the snow. It reminds him of the time where he had spent his days out in the middle of nowhere, with only a car for shelter. But worst of all, Ares is reminded of _him_.

It’s been about a month since the road trip, ten months since they graduated, and a decade since Ephraim beat him up in the courtyard of the elementary school.

* * *

 

**january 15**

Ares didn’t know what the difference between all purpose and self-raising flour was. Of course, it should be obvious, it was in the  _name_ , but even so, there was the underlying fear of irreversibly screwing it all up, left with nothing but regret and a pile of misshapen dough. Baked goods were not his field of expertise, and nor did he intend for it to be. However, he swore to himself, that when his beloved father departed for the fields of the world beyond, come hell or high, he would  _survive_. After all, he was the son of the legendary Eldigan. If he couldn’t live on his own for a week, then how could he call himself a Lionheart?

These muffins aren't going to bake themselves.

The blond groans as he absently stirs the rather suspicious looking batter. It was a pale beige, or maybe grey—it was hard to tell in the dim light— and the chunks of blueberry are clumped together. Ares can respect that. Strength lies in numbers and he was sure that the blueberries are fighting to save themselves from being eaten, but the mere emulation of self-preservation isn’t enough to escape their fate. At least, that’s what he tells himself, and he finds solace in the denial of the possibility that he did not know how to bake. Streaks of unbeaten egg hang in the balance of flour, sugar, and uncertainty.

The muffins, if they could even be called that, would not stop him on his quest for sustenance. Microwave dinners and frozen pizzas were seductive vices in their own right, but where lesser men would succumb to such depravity, the strength of the Lionheart blood coursed through Ares’ veins. He adamantly refuses to submit to the convenience of such goods-  _only through conflict do we evolve_ \- and as tempting as it was to give up and just eat instant ramen, he knows that he is capable of more than boiling water. The issue of eating muffins for dinner doesn’t matter, only what lies at the end- a delightful sweet treat.

But such empty thoughts were not enough to dispel his bloodshot eyes or alleviate his fatigue. Ares is tired. He wants nothing more than to just curl up and sleep, but he knows that he can't fall here, not now, not  _ever_. If not for himself, then for the sake of his father. Eldigan expected Ares to be a very responsible teenager who can look after himself. It was hard enough having to bid farewell to his little munchkins baby boy, but to leave him alone for an entire week? Unheard of. It almost physically pained the father to say goodbye, and there were some very manly tears shed at his departure.

He scoops the batter into the muffin tin and places it into the oven.

Suddenly, there is a knock on the door. Or well, it's more of a sad thud. Dully, the knock on the door resounds again, and Ares forces himself to abandon his station. He walks over to the door, wondering who it could be at this hour. He isn't expecting visitors at 2AM. Drawing the curtains, he peers out of the window. It's hard to make out the figure in the dark, but he can see a sliver of blue hair.  _Seliph?_  It wasn't like him to just show up unannounced, but maybe something could have happened.

Ares opens the door, and what he sees, is not, in fact, Seliph. Instead, he sees a shock of wild light blue hair, belonging to a tall young man, who is slouched over and has a goofy looking grin on his face. He sees the kid who beat him up in elementary school. He sees the captain of the soccer team and he sees the so called ‘Restoration Lord’. 

Ares bites his lip. He isn't exactly sure of how to process the situation. A million thoughts are flying through his head, none of them constructive in the slightest. He settles for something cautionary, but not exactly hostile. "Ephraim? What the hell are you doing here?" he asks, narrowing his eyes in suspicion. The name feels foreign on his lips. It feels like a lifetime and then some more since he last said it, and it almost leaves a bitter taste in his mouth. 

Ever since the fight, they’ve only talked maybe once or twice. Passing ‘hmphs’ in the hallway and curt glares across the room barely counted. At first, building walls with apathy and claims of, 'we weren't that close anyway' hurt. It was like rubbing salt into a fresh wound- primal and raw. But the thing is, rubbing salt into a wound helps it heal faster, and even though it stings, over time, the pain becomes more like a dull throb. Like the applause you gave at the end of a mediocre performance, it was still there, still meaningful, but it didn't mean much. 

At the very least, it gives him a reason to ignore the teal haired man. Of course, it's childish, and petty, and probably not even necessary, but when your pride is on the line, it's hard to be rational. And besides, it wasn't like Ephraim had attempted to reconcile with Ares either. 

It’s either too late and or too early for someone like Ephraim to be here, and maybe this is all just one big delirium induced dream.

"Wh," Ephraim begins, but is interrupted by a hiccup. Blinking slowly, he takes a step forward, inviting himself in, but Ares moves to block his way. The blond isn't going to let a near stranger into his house. Ephraim sighs, and tries again. "What do you think I'm doing? I-I need a place to crash.”

The dryness in his voice isn't exactly encouraging, and Ares is tempted to slam the door in his face, but there’s a small part of him telling him not to. He doesn’t like to accommodate for people’s own shortcomings, and whatever happened to Ephraim is not his problem, but then again, it’s not like he can just leave Ephraim in this state. He looks like he's been through a tornado, and then some more. 

Maybe it’s arising out of an attempt of forgiveness, of second chances. His conscience tells him that Ephraim deserves better than this. It’s telling him about that ideal world where the two were once dear friends, but it’s a world that feels so far away now.

That, and the fact that the strong scent of alcohol lingers on Ephraim’s breath, tells him that Ephraim shouldn’t be left alone right now. The blue haired male is a strong man, Ares knows that at least. Anyone who could beat him up in a fight is strong enough. And not just physically, but mentally. To call Ephraim this shining ray of happiness was a bit farfetched, but the way he walked, he way he carried himself with such confidence, it was almost admirable.

But still, it’s right here and now, that Ephraim looks utterly… _defeated_. The word feels foreign and heavy in his mind, and bit too tangible for his liking. There’s a lump in his throat that Ares can’t quite dislodge. The very idea is incomprehensible in its nature, but the tired look in his eyes is hard evidence to the contrary. 

"Why?" Ares asks, suspicion in his voice. The answer was obvious, and Ares isn't expecting more than a dismissive answer, but he's trying to make sense out of a situation that doesn't even warrant logic or rationale. 

Ephraim groans, and sighs very loudly in exasperation. He rolls his eyes and it soon turns into a glare. "Do I  _need_ a reason? I'm two seconds away from passing out, and you're trying to fucking interrogate me? Can I come in,  _please_?"   
  
It's obnoxious, and quite frankly, rude, but Ares gives in and tries to calm down, rubbing his eyes. 

“Sure,” Ares replies without thinking. He immediately begins to regret his decision. He doesn’t even know the Ephraim standing in front of him— he only knows the Ephraim that bullied him mercilessly throughout school— but the small smile that is born from the weary sigh makes Ares think that maybe it will be alright.

“Thanks.” Ephraim says quietly, making his way into the house.

Ares glances at Ephraim once again, taking a proper look. He’s changed, like people always do, and in more ways than one. His blue hair is long and slightly shaggy, a far cry from the neatly trimmed cut he had in high school. Where he was once lanky and lean, it is replaced by defined muscles and taut tendons. There are bags around Ephraim’s eyes, and his lips are cracked. He doesn't look good. 

"So..." Ares murmurs more to himself than to anyone else. "What happened? Why do you look like hell?" He tells himself that he's not concerned about Ephraim, and he's only asking out of a malicious curiosity. 

Ephraim scratches his head, blinking. "Uhh," he begins, before collapsing onto a couch in the living room. He raises his hand, and giggles as he clenches his fist. Ares grimaces at this. For one, he doesn't want Ephraim puking over his nice furniture, and two, if all he's getting out of Ephraim is incoherent, intoxicated gibberish, then it would be best to just leave him be. 

"Um..." Ephraim continues. "Well, I was out drinking with Lyon... But then we got into a fight. You know how he's dating Eirika, right?"

"No." Ares replies, and it's true- he doesn't. He couldn't care less about his old classmates or who they were going out with. 

He walks to the kitchen and grabs a glass of water from the tap.

"Oh, okay. So yeah, they're a thing now. Anyway, I dunno man, Lyon was talking about her... and I got super pissed off for some reason. Like, from the sounds of it, he's treating her like shit and that's not right, y'know?"

"Yes." Ares says dryly. He's trying to muster up as much concern as he can, but he's not sure if he has it in him to be Ephraim's psychologist at 2AM. He hands the glass of water to the teal haired male, and takes a seat on the other couch. 

Greedily, Ephraim drinks, unaware or uncaring of the fact that he's spilling water all over his chest. "Yeah. It's fucked up. Lyon... He's changed so much. I never thought he could be such an asshole, and to Eirika of all people! So, I heard enough, and decked him in the face." 

"Hmm. I see." 

"So that's what happened. And that explains why I look like shit."

"I thought you don't pick fights you can't win."

"I don't," Ephraim begins, propping himself up to face Ares. "But I wouldn't underestimate Lyon if I were you. He has a mean left hook."

"Right."

A natural silence falls between the two, and it's feels vaguely familiar, before Ares breaks it. 

"But then why are you here? Why didn't you just go home?" Ares questions. Ephraim's house isn't too far away from his own, only about a 15 minute walk. He wonders why Ephraim went out of his way to go by his street.

The teal haired man in question runs a hand through his hair and sighs. His voice lowers, and he turns to look at Ares. "I missed you, you know?" 

There's a sincerity in his voice that Ares has never heard before. It's vulnerable and pained, and hesitant, and it hurts, and it's nothing like the Ephraim he knows.

Still, that doesn't pacify the fire in Ares' heart. "Bullshit."

"It's true!" Ephraim counters, surprisingly aggressive for someone about to fall into an alcoholic coma. 

"No, it isn't. If you really 'missed' me, then why I haven't heard a single word from you in well over two years?" Ares says. He feels vaguely bad for sounding like a whiny teenage girl who wasn't invited to the mall by her friends, but it had to be said. There's no room to mince words now. 

There's a beat of silence. And then-

"Hey, I'm pretty I sure I asked to borrow your pencil..." 

It takes everything in the blond to not scream and throw the nearest object at Ephraim. "That's not what I meant and you know it." 

"Look, Ares, what were you expecting? That we would be friends forever? That's-" A hiccup. "That's not how life works, okay? People change."  Ephraim says, and a tinge of sadness enters his voice. He almost sounds reluctant.

Ares is expecting this. He's planned his confrontation for a long time. Because even if Ephraim didn't care about him anymore, even after all these years, Ares did. And Ephraim is sure as hell going to understand that. 

He's prepared counters for all of Ephraim's potential excuses. He's rehearsed all the words in his head. 

_Just because you changed doesn't mean that I did!_

_We were best friends for so long, and you threw me aside like it was nothing._

_Did our friendship mean anything to you?_

_You can't just fucking say that and expect me to be okay with it._

But his heart doesn't know what to say. The words wither away.

There's that silence again. It's stiff and suffocating. The part of him that's beating takes a beating, and it hurts. 

"I know, Ephraim. But I don't- I can't- I just," Ares says, and he curses himself for sounding so... weak. He should be angry. He has every right to. Ephraim can't expect him to forgive years of abandonment in the span of one night, but the fury that was once held captive in his heart is just... gone. It dissipated, maybe a long time ago, but Ares never understood it until now. Or maybe, he couldn't understand it.

He's almost disappointed. He's probably dedicated a bit more than is necessary to this very one exchange, and it's not living up to his expectations. He had wanted to goad Ephraim into something like a fight, just to see his old self, but instead, he's getting a sad drunk on the couch.

Ephraim was right. People did change. 

"I'm sorry," Ephraim murmurs. "I didn't mean to hurt you. I mean, I know I did, and you probably can't forgive me for it, but..." 

The oven timer goes off. The sharp  _ding_ cuts through the tension and Ares is glad for a reason to leave the room. He opens the oven door and grabs the muffin tin-

"Fuck!" Ares screams out in pain. Of course, it's searing hot. His hands are on fire and he nearly drops it.

Ephraim calls out from the living room. "You okay?!" 

"NO," Ares says calmly. Well, as calmly as one can be after burning themselves. It's not a very pleasant feeling, after all. "I'm okay. Everything is okay." he adds on. 

Taking a deep breath, Ares tries to extract the muffins as carefully as he can from the tin, easing them out with a pair of tongs. It's awkward and unwieldy, and he wonders if this is what his father was like during his residency at the hospital. Still, he manages to succeed, placing the baked goods on a plate. He heads back to the living room and hands Ephraim a muffin.

The teal haired male eyes the muffin with something like curiosity, tentatively poking at the top of the sad looking dome. "Thanks," he says quietly, and takes a large bite. He chews slowly, a neutral expression on his face. "This... is really bad." Ephraim mutters under his breath. 

"Oh," is all that Ares can muster. He takes a bite of his own muffin, and reluctantly, he can only agree with Ephraim. The muffin was undercooked and tasted like nothing but flour.

Seeing the crestfallen look on his former friend, Ephraim doubles back on himself and tries to cheer up the blond. "Uh, well... I like how you put lemon in it! The citrus gives it a nice tang."

"...I didn't even put lemon in it." Ares states bluntly. He does appreciate Ephraim's attempt at pity, though. 

"Ah. Well, maybe you could next time? It might mask the blandness."

Oh, never mind Ephraim being polite for once. "Sure."

"Did you follow a recipe or something?"

"No. Recipes are for the weak."

"Wh-what?" Ephraim coughs out.

The conversation is mundane, but also almost romantic in that mediocre way everything is at 2AM, where you can't help but to laugh at even the dumbest of things. It reminds Ares of simpler times, of sleepovers where the two would stay up late playing video games, getting high off cheap candy and soda. 

It seems like Ephraim shares the same sentiment- he picks up the Wiimote by the TV stand and waves it almost suggestively. "I'm bored. Play something with me."

Ares raises an eyebrow in confusion. After what was a rather awkward, but admittedly, relieving exchange, Ephraim was thinking about video games? "Aren't you drunk?" 

Ephraim grumbles under his breath. "Is that really what is important right now? And yeah, but that doesn't mean I don't know how to have fun."

"No. Do you know what time it is?" Ares says, shaking his head in disbelief.

Ephraim glances down at his phone. "It's 2:36AM."

"Don't be a smart ass. It's way too late." 

"Oh yeah? That doesn't explain you baking those god awful things at this hour."

Ares chokes, and he's not sure if it's the muffin or the fact that Ephraim had a point. "That's... different."

"It really isn't. Though, that reminds me- how are you up so late, anyway? I thought your dad would have tucked you into bed by now," Ephraim says. He checks the shelf, scanning the various titles for a suitable game. 

_Mario Party 8. A classic._

He turns on the TV and inserts the disc into the console. "Or should I say, drugged? I still can't believe you have a curfew. Aren't you 19?" Ephraim smirks.  

"Yes. And father is away right now. Something to do with work. That's the only reason why you're still here, given how loud you are." Ares threatens, but there's no conviction in his voice. The cheery background music of the game isn't helping either.  

"Thanks. I know you can't get enough of my voice," Ephraim laughs. 

Ares wonders how he has not already killed the other male. "Shut the fuck up, Ephraim." 

"Nah. Instead of hating yourself and the world all the time, have you tried having fun?"

They go through all the settings- Ares argues that Goomba's Booty Boardwalk is more  _fair_ , but Ephraim says that Koopa's Tycoon Townis more  _interesting_. They compromise on DK's Treetop Temple. Ares plays as Yoshi- "that ugly green dinosaur"- while Ephraim plays as the "infinitely cooler" Boo. The game soon begins. The first few turns are uneventful, the two landing on blue and red squares here and there.

But then, they play a 2-vs.-2 minigame.  _Rowed to Victory._ Ephraim skips through the rules, to Ares' dismay, and they find themselves spinning around in a circle in a boat. Ares sensibly moves the remote in a circular motion, while Ephraim is waggling the thing as if his life depended on it. 

_Oi! Hurry up. We can't fucking lose to Toad and Peach!_

_We need to row in sync, or we're not getting anywhere at this rate._

_THEN ROW FASTER YOU LAZY SHIT!_

Miraculously, the two manage to find a rhythm, and they beat the CPU team by mere pixels. 

"Now that's what I'm talking about! We showed that bitch and her dumb bodyguard with lung cancer who's boss! Good work, partner." Ephraim exclaims excitedly, holding his hand up for a high five. When Ares doesn't comply, Ephraim wraps an arm around the blond's shoulders, and brings him into a headlock. 

There's a wild grin on Ephraim's face, unadulterated and free. "We don't pick fights we can't win!" 

"...save me." Ares mutters dryly, but the corners of his lips slowly turn up into the hints of a smile. 

The game continues, and it's well past 3AM, and Ares is tired to the point that he can feel his eyeballs in their sockets, but he doesn't care. But like all good things, it comes to an end, and in a shocking turn of events, Toad manages to claim the title of Superstar. The two males are honestly embarrassed that they lost to the computer- set on normal difficulty, even- and they resolve to never speak of it again. 

Sleep beckons them. Ares retreats back to his room, while Ephraim is happy to take the couch, even though there's a perfectly fine guest bedroom. The two wish each other a good night. 

_Sleep well._

_You too._

They both want to say more, but they don't. 

* * *

**january 15 (later that day)**

When Ares wakes up, Ephraim is gone. In his place is a note, written in familiar messy handwriting. 

_Pack your bags. We're going on a road trip. Deal with it._

_PS: If you want to see your pencil again, you better do as I say._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> why did i write this *dabs*
> 
> credit to @elteh on tumblr for the art! but also screw you bc why did you make ephres a thing
> 
> To everyone else, I hope you enjoyed! Let me know what you thought, and feel free to join me in crackship hell! :)


	2. Chapter 2

**february 22 (the day before)**

It’s 7PM, and Ephraim is alone in his room. He lies in his bed, blankets haphazardly crumpled around him, a fortress to protect him from the cold. It's not very effective, but it gets the job done. Tension drains from his muscles as if the soft mattress is absorbing it, and he sighs contentedly. After a hard day of doing absolutely nothing, he's glad for the reprieve. Well, not exactly nothing. Helping his sister with her boy troubles is an exercise in futility, and she knows this as well as he does, but what sort of brother would he be if he wasn't there for her?

He absently scrolls through his phone, going through the routine he set for himself a while back, an obligation to be kept- it’s a constant in his life that he knows he can control. Franz got a girlfriend. Nice. L’Arachel is going on vacation? Of course she is, when is she not? 

…It’s all one and the same, and it soon turns into a blur. It’s right about now, when the sky is black and there’s frost on the window, that Ephraim realises he is bored. It’s that strange type of bored where it can’t be alleviated with superficial entertainment (even if he does miss the ludicrous luck of Mario Party), and it reaches for his soul and clenches it with a cold, clammy, fist.

Or at least, that’s what it feels like. (Sometimes he wonders what it would have been like if he did theatre in high school.) But Ephraim knows that what lies at the end of the control over the arbitrary things in his life, is just that. Arbitrary. The last time where he truly had fun, the sort of fun that has you smiling ear to ear to the point where your cheeks start to hurt, with reckless abandon in your heart and invigorating bravery by your side... was on the road with Ares.

The evening glow of the stars above are perturbed by the harsh glare of his phone screen, but for as romantic he envisions the world to be, there’s that idea wrapped up in a husky voice coughed out by Ares that Ephraim just can’t quite forget. And of course, there's the physical reminder of their journey together sitting on the bedside counter. When he thinks about it, it's pretty stupid. Why would he be sentimental over a cheap piece of plastic?

But well, it's not just  _any_ piece of plastic. It's Ares' recorder, and it's a promise of their friendship. Like the melody that played from the instrument, it's a sign of the things to come and the things that have passed. Sometimes it was mildly beautiful, but most of the time, it was just a shitty squeak. 

He takes the recorder and blows through the mouthpiece. Lost in thoughts all alone, the shrill tune of Hot Cross Buns is a requiem.

Ephraim didn’t know that Ares writes poetry. But it’s under the shooting stars of the meteor shower that he finds out, and the revelation hurts, in more ways than one. In quite possibly the most monotonous voice ever, Ares recited a few lines of his poem. He can't exactly remember what the lines were, but he does remember his ears threatening to bleed at the sound of Ares' dry tone.

But more importantly, he remembers feeling sad for the blond. It was a sad that he couldn't quite explain- words weren't enough to describe the feeling in his heart, even if his brain protested otherwise- and it makes him want to hug the other male, to tell him everything will be okay. And maybe that's a lie- how could he ever possibly understand how Ares is feeling- but maybe it's enough, because that's all he ever needed. Someone to be there for him. 

Why?

(The answer lies in the form of an unopened letter on his desk.)

 _The fires in the sky, they_ _fall_

_Only living as half as long as you or I_

_But they burn, fearlessly, hopelessly, impulsively_

_Twice as bright._

_Your eyes are a river of stars_

_I would gladly drown in over and over again_

_So would you join me in this blaze_

_And make my dreams come true?_

_Sorry... but hey,_

_I love you._

(Ares is not particularly good at poetry.)

* * *

**january 16**  

Ares has a morning routine. At precisely 8AM, he presses the volume down button on his phone to deter the alarm from disturbing him any further. He lacks the energy and clarity to actually turn it off, but he's not going to settle for that snooze bullshit either. He gets dressed (three identical pairs of jeans in his wardrobe), brushes his teeth (for two minutes and thirty seconds), and eats breakfast (45 grams of cornflakes in 250 millilitres of milk). 

But on this morning, something different happens. Ares doesn't have an alarm to wake him up. Instead, Ephraim's suggestion haunts him all night. The words from Ephraim's note flash in his mind over and over again, a mantra of madness, really.  _Pack your bags. We're going on a road trip. Deal with it._

Ares most certainly did not have to 'deal with it'. Arguably, the fiscal value of a pencil isn't worth the stress of having to socialise with Ephraim for an extended period of time. He didn't have to do anything the blue haired male said, threats of holding his pencil hostage or otherwise. Not everyone deserved a second chance. Ares isn't just going to let Ephraim back into his life, all buddy-buddy. 

But that doesn't explain why there are bags crammed with clothes, bottles of Leif's homemade S Drink, and other items that were to be brought on a- you guessed it- road trip. 

The phone on his bedside table flashes with a new message. 

**Eh-frame: i'll be there in 15**

**Eh-frame: eirika keeps bugging me :/**

**Eh-frame: wait**

**Eh-frame: are you sure you want to go with me?**

Ares doesn't reply immediately. Instead, he is presented with a dilemma. He has 15 minutes to decide if he wants to follow through with the absurdity of all this, to let himself actually be pushed around by a bully like Ephraim. However, there's a small part of him that yearns for the release of freedom- through spontaneous road trips, of course. His father would never let him out of his sight. And so, while Eldigan is away, Ares has the chance to escape and explore the world- not because he particularly wants to, but because he  _can._ There's no way he's passing up on such a grand opportunity.

**GodOfWar: Yes.**

**Eh-frame: but are you REALLY sure??**

**Eh-frame i won't blame ya if you back out now**

**GodOfWar: I stand by what I said.**

**Eh-frame: k. see ya soon**

Twenty five minutes later- which comprises of a healthy ten minutes of Ares pacing around anxiously, because _oh god what if he forgot, what if it was all just a trick, what if something happened, where the FUCK is he-_ andthere's a knock on the door. The knock is strong and confident, quite unlike the sad thud that was yesterday. 

Ares opens the door. 

"Sup," Ephraim says. 

A wave of discomfort washes over Ares. "...Sup." the blond replies. An awkward silence settles upon the two. The other day when they met, Ephraim's words were buffered by his intoxication, but now, no such barrier exists. Whatever came next- it would come from Ephraim himself and not the alcohol. At least, he looks better now. His hair is a healthier shade of teal. 

"Why do you always look at me like I killed your cat?" Ephraim asks. 

"Maybe you did."

"...Anyway. Are you ready to go?"

"Yeah. Just let me get my stuff."

Ares heads back into the house to gather his belongings. After a while, he exits his home, having collected all his personal items. However, he can't help but to look back, doubt creeping into his mind. 

_I have a bad feeling about this..._

However, any semblance of unease is quickly dispelled at the sight of Ephraim's pick up truck.

"You have got to be kidding me. What..." Ares begins, pointing at the vehicle. "The hell is that?" 

Ephraim protests, crossing his arms. "Hey, don't be mean to Cassie! She's sensitive." 

When Ares thought about it, the car was a hunkin', hideous blue thing, rather reminiscent of Ephraim himself. There's a trash all over the floor, and it's as if the windows haven't been cleaned in a lifetime and then some more. The doors are scratched, but this is (almost) preferable to the tacky decals that the blond expected of a car called 'Cassie'. 

"It's a car. It doesn't have feelings." Ares breathes out exasperatedly. 

"Neither do you, but does that mean you're a car?" Ephraim teases. 

"Fuck off."

The two load their equipment into the rear compartment, making sure everything is securely fastened. 

Then Ephraim enters the car, Ares following. And as he slides into the passenger seat, grumbling all the while, there's a part of him that's excited. Perhaps it arises out of the rebellious streak that every teenage male experiences at some point in their life. Or maybe, he's just making up for lost time. 

"Alright! Let's go!" Ephraim exclaims excitedly, and reverses out of the driveway. A bit too energetically at that- Ephraim nearly rams into Ares' letter box. 

Dejected, Ares sighs. "I'm going to die."  

 "Of fun!" 

* * *

The two are on the highway out of Magvel and are heading east to the city of Ylissetol, approximately three hours away- where they will make their first stop. The whole trip, by Ephraim's estimates, is three solid days of driving. That's with convenient blindness to legal speed limits. So by all means, it was going to be a  _long_ trip. The logical thing to do was to get used to each other's company, because they sure as hell were going to be in it, but it wasn't exactly easy. 

Ever since they left, the conversation was as follows:

Ephraim: How are you?

Ares: Okay. You?

Ephraim: Good.

Ares: That is good.

Ephraim: Yes. 

Now, Ares wasn't outgoing or extroverted like Ephraim was, but even he knew that he would rather watch grass grow than partake in such mundane dialogue. It was awkward- and not even in the magical way that accompanied fleeting beginnings- but in that dry, tenacious sort of way. The two sat in silence, Ephraim focused on driving, Ares examining the various trinkets in the car. 

Ephraim eventually breaks the silence. "So, how about we put on some music? There should be some CDs in the glovebox." 

"Alright." Ares answers. He eventually pulls out a case with some rather crude writing on it: Ephraim's Very COOL Anime Songs! He cocks an eyebrow in apprehension- he didn't expect Ephraim to be into this kinda thing. "Huh. I don't know if I'm concerned or amused by this."

"Well, guess we'll find out." 

The first song that plays is upbeat, your typical Japanese pop song, uplifting guitar riffs and all. 

Ephraim lights up, a smile forming on his face. "Reaching out for no man's land~" he sings cheerfully.

"Concerned." Admittedly, he isn't a bad singer at all- sure, he's grossly out of tune and his voice is rough- but the happiness he sings with is almost infectious. 

...

"Something something,  _somewhere_ , da-da-ah-ah in the air, I will ring a bell until you feel me by my side!"  

Ares takes it all back. Ephraim is a terrible singer, and he doesn't want to hear him hum, sing, carol, chorus, warble, or even  _breathe_ for the next hour. His ears have suffered enough. But no, Ephraim continues. 

"Can you  _please_ , shut up for two seconds." Ares snaps. 

Ephraim opens his mouth to protest, but for some reason, decides against it. He turns off the music, sad puppy look in his eyes (not that Ares cares). Ares looks out the window. Magvel becomes smaller and smaller, until finally, he sees nothing but rolling green hills. 

"Hey-" the two males say at the same time. 

Ephraim runs a hand through his hair. "You first." 

"Why did you want to go on this road trip? And with me?" Ares asks. It's something that was bugging him- sure, Ephraim explained everything in his messages, but there was something Ares couldn't quite shake off.

"Well... like I said, I wanted to see the Belhalla Meteor. Apparently, it only comes around once every 20 years- and it's truly a sight to behold." Ephraim answers, rising wonder in his voice. "From what I've heard anyway."

Ares nods. "That sounds reasonable enough." he remarks. Admittedly, Ares too wanted to see the meteor shower. He had heard stories from his father about how it was one of the most beautiful phenomena in the world. It was under the falling stars where he proposed to Mother. Of course, it wasn't as if some pretty views were enough to stop her from running off, leaving Eldigan alone to raise Ares. 

"But why me? Don't you have other friends?" Ares adds on. 

"Yeah, but... Everybody couldn't go. They said they were busy or something." Ephraim answers. His voice then becomes quiet, and he looks to the side sheepishly. "Or maybe they just didn't want to. I don't blame them. I can be a bit much..." he trails off. 

There's definitely something wrong here. It wasn't like Ephraim to sound so... insecure. Growing up, Ares had known Ephraim to be this popular, confident young man, who had a bright future ahead of him. He had never expected to have this conversation with him.

"You are," Ares automatically quips, but he then bites his lip, feeling slightly bad. Banter was all well and good, but now wasn't the time. If Ephraim was prepared to open up and confide in him, then the least he could do was offer that same respect. 

"But it's their loss. I think that they're missing out on something special here." Ares says, trying to force tenderness into his voice. He was never good at consoling people, but it's the most he can do. 

"Ha... if you say so. Thanks." Ephraim smiles. "But yeah, remember when I was drunk and accidentally stumbled into your house?"

"It was literally one day ago." 

"It got me thinking- about how we were such good friends back when we were kids. And well, maybe I'm just being dumb, but there's something inside me that misses all of that. The adventures we had. So I guess that's why I wanted you to come with me."

Ares is silent. He had suspected as much, but hearing it from the blue haired male himself confirms it.

After all, the blond thought exactly the same thing. Even if their most recent adventure had been navigating a boat in a river of literal molasses, the thrill of exhilaration was there- a shadow of the bond they once shared. 

Mario Party: it giveth and it taketh away. 

"Fair enough." Ares finally replies. 

...

"So what were you going to ask me before?" Ares says.

Ephraim tilts his head. "Oh, right. Um well, do you ever get these really weird dreams?"

Ares sighs. Only Ephraim would try to talk to him about dreams after having an introspective conversation. "No, but do go on. I'm dying to know more." he mutters dryly. 

"Yeah, okay so, in the dream, I was the prince of this kingdom." Ephraim begins. "I don't remember much, but there was this war, over a stupid rock or something. And then for some reason, Lyon was possessed by this demon?" Ephraim explains. 

"And you were in it too! Except, it wasn't really you? You wore a lot of black-"

"I still do."

"-but you were actually a pirate! And you wore this really thick eyeliner."

"Okay...?" Ares splutters. Him, a pirate? That wore eyeliner? Now that was something else.

"It actually really suited you. You should try it sometime. Who knows, it might even get yourself a girlfriend!" Ephraim teases, nudging the blond with an elbow.

"Absolutely not."

* * *

 

The two continue to make small talk, sometimes falling into periods of silence- but the air between them has become more comfortable. They listen to Ephraim's Very COOL Anime Songs! and admittedly, the cheesy lyrics about the power of friendship is starting to grow on Ares. 

The hours pass, and eventually, they arrive at Ylissetol, the outskirts of the city coming into view. It's nothing like Magvel- it's massive in comparison, high rise buildings jutting out. 

"So, what are we actually doing here?" Ares asks curiously.

"I need to give Cassie some juice, she's running low. And we could do with a break. Being holed up in a car can't be too fun."  

Ephraim drives for a bit longer, and then pulls into a gas station. 

"Go stretch your legs. Take a piss if you need to. I'll be back." Ephraim says, and goes off to fuel up. 

Ares nods, and gets out of the car. His lower body feels numb. He stretches, body smoothing out the kinks in appreciation.

Then he heads for the bathroom. There's a mirror above the sink, and the reflection catches his eyes. He peers into the glass- it's as if there's a stranger looking back at him, because he almost can't recognise himself. The perpetual butterflies in his stomach turn into rocks.

_Something's changed._

Sighing, Ares exits the bathroom. He was being paranoid for no good reason. 

The blond stands by the car, waiting for Ephraim to return. Said male comes back holding two bottles- one brown, and one pink. 

"Choccy milk! Or maybe you want strawberry?" Ephraim announces excitedly.

Ares almost laughs. "I don't really like flavoured milk." he answers.

"Too bad. That sounds like something a strawbee bitch would say." Ephraim mutters, turning his nose up. 

He opens the bottle and is about to take a swig, but then he stops. "Oh wait," Ephraim says, presenting his bottle forward.

"A toast."

"For what?" Ares asks. 

"I dunno," Ephraim says, scratching his head sheepishly. "To this adventure, I guess. To us."

Ares lets himself smile. 

_Maybe this won't be so bad after all._

"To us." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oops
> 
> if you're still with me after all this time, first of all, why. but secondly, i cannot thank you all enough for the warm reception that i have received! i honestly was not expecting it, but it's a pleasant surprise.
> 
> until next time :)


End file.
